#( oh honey — san )

[zu-is-here]

(〃˃̵3˂̵)(ᴖ◡U๑)♪

thanks to l1met1me for sudden inspiration! <3

Cross from xtaleunderverse by jakei95

Shattered Dream from shattereddreamsau by galacii / galacii-gallery

[sandeewithtwoe]

His French accent is showing

Color belongs to Superyoumna

Ink belongs to comyet/myebi

Transcript:

Ink: Hi, I’m Ink! You’re… Colour, right?

Color: You’re pretty close. It’s “Color”

Ink: Uh, yeah? That’s what I just said: Colour

Color: No, ColOR

Ink: What???

(Some time later)

Ink: Yeah, so i met Colour today and-

Blue: It’s pronounced “Color”

[saltiestbread]

Honey coated

[spotaus]

Part of me is looking at this and nodding in accomplishment. The other part thinks it's cringe. However I love it either way! This is Shotput and I'm putting the context for this under the cut!

So, Shotput is one of my shipkids from Eternal Ashes! He's Killer and Dream's only son, and he's really only a sudecgaracter to EA, but he's got a special place in the story too lmao.

Shotput (his real name is Shooting Star but he stopped responding to that name around age 10~11) was best friends with Reset, the main character of EA. Shot was meant to be a sort of bringer of peace, a child between former enemies, and a good influence for everyone around. Of course, Killer still worked for Nightmare and, while he no longer fought Dream directly, he still caused a lot of chaos. His loyalty laid with Nightmare. So, Dream (and by Dream I mean the combined effort of any AU who could babysit + Dream) raised Shotout practically on his own. Shot barely knew Killer, but he looked up to him a lot, because Killer did all the fun things that Dream said were bad. But even while Killer did 'bad things' he was still nice.

So, idk, I just thought this would be a fun way to bring my young!Shotput design to life before I went back to doing my Orchid piece (<- Orchid and Shotout canonically were made around the same, so they're nearly twins, even tho they're cousins. They hate eachother.). Killer loves Shotput, and later on in the story they get to bond more when Shotout moves to live with Killer, but at the point that this clip is meant to show? He doesn't get why they (the adults) all seem so angry with Killer all the time! (<- it's Because Killer, like, killed people. They don't want the lil guy around him lmao-)

And side note: Shotput has beef with Orchid because not only does Reset (his supposed bff) choose her over him to plan and hang out with, but Killer chose to stay with Night in Shot's youth, and Killer knows Orchid better than he does Shot. He resents Killer when he's older, but at this point he's just Baby!

[link-sans-specs]

Such... ly dumb. 🎶

This is dumb-hard. This is so hard when you're dumb.

How hard could it be to get here? I'm here and everything's hard for me.

Rhett & Link

We Spent a Day in 1984

[braisedhoney]

is swap paps your favorite because he’s basically tall sans

hey now, who said he's my favorite? i mean, i did when i was talking about aus, but you can't hold me responsible for that. besides i listed more than just "tall sans". like gaster. and short regular sans. (kidding, kidding.)

anyway nah. it's because we're both rockin' the orange aesthetic. can't judge a guy with good taste.

(thanks for the mental image of like. tall lanky sans though. that'll haunt me lmao)

[olichat-reads]

real footage of us hyperfixating on hot mha men

mutuals we are doing this

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “��m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[hwallazia]

BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT – 최산

synopsis . in which san discovers a new fetish while you ride him.

pairing . choi san & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), established relationship, non idol!au, married!au.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 0,7k

DISCLAIMER! dom! san, sub! reader, sort of lactation (milk involved but not specifically sucking it from the source), nipple play, cow girl position, bulge kink, mocking, dirty talk, praise, pet names (baby, princess), too many moans and mewls, dacryphilia, basically san fucking the daylights out of reader (even though reader’s on top of him)

NIC’S NOTES yess, the title is based on billie’s lyric on “guess” how’d you know? <3 ;; also, i hate not having the time to write full-length stories so badly TT gotta survive with these little drabbles. so well, enjoy the meal babes !!

“put your back into it, yeah?”

his growl tingled your ear, hands reaching for his wide shoulders for support. you bounced up and down his length relentlessly, with no hesitation, no mercy. his hands found home in your hips which worked perfectly hard, fingers varying between lingering, fond touches and harsh grips on your flesh. your walls enveloped his cock in the most welcoming way, pulsating around him, giving him a taste of heaven.

“s-shut up,” your breathless whisper brushed his earlobe. “it’s hard when your husband has a fucking huge dick—“ you could almost continue your words. a strangled, loud moan intruding into your whiny complaint as he flattened his palm against your ass flesh, the sound of the harsh spank bouncing through the walls.

“just shut up and take it, baby.” he cooed at you mockingly, his recent action belying his honey-dripping voice, his lips finding their way up to your neck. cute love bites were spread all over the skin. “can’t be too hard now can it?”

your eyelashes swung the tears away by blinking once or twice, exhilarating pants rolled off your lips as beads of sweat were attached to your temple. you dropped your head back from the overwhelming feeling. eventually —when he grew far too impatient— he matched your pace, thrusting upwards and, therefore, reaching divine places.

“can’t do anything without my help.” his right found your bouncing breast and trapped it with his palm, his fingers immediately digging into the soft, almost pillowy flesh. “poor little princess.” he teased your nipple a little, sending to another wave of satisfaction as you melted into his touch. soon, a strange white liquid began to ooze out of the slit, resulting in san’s jaw dropping all the way down the floor, eyes wide open and dilated as he stared intently at the white essence, longing to get a taste of it oh-so-badly. the combination of his wife’s leaking tits bouncing right in front of him as his cock ramming into her insides formed a perfectly defined bulge was a sight for sore eyes. and he had the absolute pride to call it his, and only his to admire, to touch, to pleasure.

but you still were working hard on his dick, his hips still going up and down and providing him and you the most satisfying session. it wasn’t until you heard your husband speak that you realized what he was so immersed in. “fuck you’re leaking.”

“what do you mean—“ you questioned immediately and when you stared down at your sweaty body, your orbs twitched at the sight of your abdomen covered with drops of warm milk and san seemly falling in love with it. “oh my.”

you couldn’t understand why it happened right there and then, a swell of bashfulness drowning your senses and immediately stopping your movements to search for a towel or something to clean yourself up. but san paused your actions.

“what are you doing?”

“i’m sorry i’m just—looking for..” your sentence came out as fast as lightning and in parts, since you cut your words to reach for the nearest piece of fabric.

“i literally got you all covered with my cum yesterday and now you’re shy because of some milk drops?” he stated, leaving you frozen in your place. a strong blush inking your cheekbones cutely. he lifted your hips up a bit to immediately restart the game you left pending, his hard cock finding your tight, inviting hole. once again. where it belongs.

your immediate reaction was to scream, holding onto his abs to keep yourself from falling. the fast, restless pace your husband adopted pulled breathless gasps out of you, the loop of san’s name falling off your swollen lips like a mantra. his right hand abandoned your stuttering hip to meet your milk-covered nipple again, stimulating it by rubbing and pinching it. more essence and mewls poured out of you, walls compressing and pulsating frenetically around his cock as they swallowed the entire length almost sinfully. you were crying on his dick in less than a minute.

he chuckled, admiring the view. “what a shameless wife i have.”

| masterlist

[323cutie]

OH!!!! or san/wooyoung after they go on one of those shows where they play with and take care of kids …. later that night they’ve got your with your knees to your chest, damn near sobbing and begging to put a baby in you

well. I went a little bit feral.

"S-Sannie," you gasp out. "San. Slow down."

San punches out a whine like the thought alone upsets him. His grip on the pillows next to your head tightens and loosens, and he gives you one strong thrust as if to physically disagree. You moan, long and loud, San somehow folding you over even more to press his face to your neck.

"Can't," he whimpers, one of his hands leaving the sheets beside you to run along your entire body, fingers twitching over your skin. "Can't, sweetheart... please, need to fill you up. Wanna give you a baby. Please."

You gulp and San resumes his regular, brutal pace, your nails clawing at his back while his cock slides against your walls deliciously. He'd mentioned today's schedule -- a variety show with kids -- a couple weeks ago, and you'd been excited to hear about it, but you never would have expected this.

"San --"

"Don't you want me to?" He asks, pulling out of your neck to look at you. His eyes are bleary and full of tears, and the unshed shine in his eyes makes you clench around him. "Fuck, don't you want me to fill you up?"

You can't even think anymore. You feel insane, feverish, nodding immediately: "I do, please, Sannie, give me a baby."

He sobs, pushing harder and faster into you even still. Desperate for release, even more desperate to give you what you begged for -- what you both want. He splits you open, a hand finding its way in between you to rub at your clit.

"Gonna give it to you, honey," San pants, but your focus is slipping. You think you're drooling -- then again, he is too. "Gonna give you everything."

[akanemnon]

God dammit, you bastard. You actually did it. This is so cursed and I'm loving every second of it.

I did the thing

the horrible wretched thing

it breathes out of spite for god and smells of diseased moss and I hope it brings nothing but suffering and eight crazy nights bon appetit dork @akanemnon

[fadedtoneverland]

ice on my teeth | c.sn

❤︎ synopsis — san’s been feeling a little bold lately after his most recent comeback

pairing: idol!choi san x afab!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: ice on my teeth slaps and san in the mv has me feeling some type of way. enjoy this fic i cranked out from the horniest crevices of my mind. banner credits to @sylusz

cw: no gendered pronouns for the reader. top!san. bottom!reader. pet names (baby, babe, honey). vaginal fingering. oral sex (f receiving). slight overstimulation. reader is hormonal for san. san is a bit of a freak

san was so unfairly hot.

and he knew it.

it was insanely obvious that he took advantage of that fact too, because this comeback, his stylists went all out for every single one of his looks.

as the partner of choi san himself, you had special privileges of freely roaming photoshoots and music video shootings whenever ateez prepared for their latest comeback. it’s a special opportunity that all of ateez partner’s got, per the request of the members themselves.

and damn, did your man really aim to make you go feral this time around.

the new golden hour part 2 ep was an absolute banger, hongjoong even gave you the luxury to have an early listen to one of the songs on the album. of course, with banger songs, comes with a banger music video.

a music video that was a little too sexy for your own sanity.

the entire process was a thrill for ateez, but an agonizing time for you. you were forced to sit behind the camera crew while they took the most sinful shots of your boyfriend, trying to be discreet with how you rubbed your thighs together every time san flashed one of his sultry, sexy smirks that he’d usually give you in the bedroom.

it’s like god was laughing at your misfortune from the clouds with a popcorn bucket in hand. oh how you so badly wanted to jump your man’s bones and suck his dick right then and there, but you knew better than to create that oddly graphic scenario.

there was one particular scene that was being filmed, where san was looking up into the camera through intricately decorated chains and jewelry, shooting his iconic dark, sultry eyes. san was dressed in nothing but a fur coat and pants, lowered ever so slightly to teasingly show off his dolce gabbana boxers.

and he definitely knew he was affecting you in such a way, because every time you even catch his gaze, he always flashes you that cocky ass smirk, which only fuels your desire to just wipe than smile off with your lips on his.

this man should be illegal.

finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime of undressing san with your eyes, the music video filming was finally over, and you got to take your man home to your place.

san had already told mingi and seonghwa ahead of time that he’d be staying over at your place for some “quality time with his partner”.

a few hickeys and one sloppy make out later, the tension had finally boiled over into a heated dance of passion and lust between the two of you, with san pushing you down onto your duvet, his large hands roaming over your body, worshipping your clear skin.

“gorgeous.” san panted out, lathering wet kisses over your stomach, pushing your shirt up to your chest to grant himself more access to your body.

breathy sighs escaped your wet lips, and your gaze drifted down to the masterpiece of a man between your legs. a breathless chuckle erupted from your throat.

“someone’s eager.” you teased. san responded with a nip to your inner thigh, making you gasp.

“you’re one to talk.” san lowly groaned while practically ripping off your pants in one swift motion, which only made your panties even more soaked.

“i saw how you were looking at me during the filming. you’re not that slick, honey.”

you laughed, though it came out more high-pitched than expected. “can you blame me? you were looking so damn hot for that camera.”

“good.” san punched out with a grunt, his head diving between your legs. catching the elastic band of your panties between his teeth, he dragged down the sodden fabric in a teasing manner, slowly egging you on and heightening your arousal.

when you finally kicked off the delicate fabric yourself, the bare sight of your glittering, wet cunt, was all it took for san to lose control.

san has always been an impatient man when it came to you, so he wasted no time spreading your thighs apart, licking up your slit in one, fat stripe, and then beginning to feast on you, moaning wantonly into your sensitive skin.

your moans were shameless and loud, fingers immediately darting down to tangle in san’s raven hair, tugging on the strands periodically as san devoured your pussy with his skilled tongue.

“fuck, i’ll never get tired of this taste,” san grunted into your skin, letting out a moan as his tongue lathered over your sensitive folds. “it’s just so damn good.”

a high pitched whine escaped your lips. “h-hah.. sannie…”

“yeah, that’s it, baby. say my name.” san continued to worship your dripping core, his lips latched around your clit and sucking hard, flicking his tongue over it every now and then. your moans only got louder each time, and san just reveled in your pleasure, getting off on it.

san’s cock was so hard in his pants it was almost painful, begging to be freed and just fuck your pussy silly. but san was focused on you, and only you, wanting to hear your sounds and your pleasure.

a tiny trail of saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, moans and whines coming from your throat nonstop as san ate you out like it was the last time he was ever gonna taste pussy. his calloused hands gripped the plush of your thighs tightly every time they closed instinctively around your head, spreading them apart and keeping them locked in that position.

“no. keep them open for me, babe.” san hashed out with a slight whine in his voice. he then licked a quick line up his two fingers before plunging them inside of you, relishing the loud gasp that came from your mouth.

“wanna make you feel good. please.”

the desperation in his voice made your velvety walls clench around his digits, and san groaned loudly at the feeling. hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders, san dived back in to abuse your clit with his tongue, while his fingers beckoned inside of your cunt to drive you crazy.

god were you a mess, the way san’s fingers just dragged against your spongy walls in all the right places, plus how he was prodding your sensitive pearl with his tongue. it’s like this man was trying to kill you.

every single sound that escaped your mouth only made san redouble his efforts, reducing you to his babbling, incoherent mess. your fingers tightened in san’s hair, pulling harshly at his messy black locks, and your hips bucked up to meet with san’s tongue and finger movements.

“s-san- san i can’t— a-ah~…” you whined rather loudly. san chuckled into your skin, the deep sound resonating within his chest.

and san’s gaze never left your face. his sharp, catlike eyes were dark. so dark that there was almost no white left in them, nothing but pure lust present in those black orbs.

“fuck. keep doing that for me.” san groans before removing his fingers, and spearing his tongue into your pink pucker. that about made you lose it right then and there.

“come for me, honey.”

it’s like his words cast some sort of spell on your body, because you came right then and there. your white essence flooded his tongue, and he eagerly swallowed up the sweet taste, groaning loudly and keeping his face stuffed between your thighs.

but even after your mind-shattering orgasm, san didn’t relent with his tongue movements. his continued ministrations left you a broken, whimpering mess, desperately pushing his head to try and find some sort of relief.

“s-sannie— san- it’s too much- please-!” you cried out, choked up moans coming from you.

san responded with a low whine, pushing his tongue harshly between your folds, as if to physically disagree. san’s head then came up from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal.

“nuh-uh, honey. we’re not stopping now.” san cooed softly. you would’ve melted at the sound of his honeyed words if it weren’t for your body being so sensitive.

pushing his pants down, his hard, leaking cock jutted out from between his legs. the tip was an angry red, demanding to be pleasured. as he shimmied himself between your legs and hooked them around his waist, you knew you’d be in for a long night.

then again, it wasn’t like you minded.

“we ain’t stopping ‘till i get to cum. and i’ll be sure to fill you up so good, babe.”

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fadedtoneverland © 2024 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[gingersxng]

Sex Addiction

Pairing: f!reader x San

Summary: your boyfriend can’t keep his hands to himself and isn’t sorry about the consequences which follows

Genre: Smut 18+

Notes: sub!reader, rough dom!San, San has a sex addiction, San is really horny, public touching, nipple sucking, pussy eating, fingering, spanking, bruising, unprotected sex (always keep safe), cum eating, cream pie, many rounds, overstimulation

Words: 814

you were invited to a family dinner with your parents at a fancy restaurant earlier this evening but halfway through your boyfriend decided it would be appropriate to start playing with you under the table. caressing his hand on your squishy thighs and then further up your short skirt while holding a conversation with your mom. you felt your heart race and your body froze cause you were so scared someone would notice. you squeezed your thighs together locking his hand in between them to give him a warning. a deep chuckle escaped his lips. he pinched your thigh making you jolt up with a “ouch”. you threw a deadly glare at him and he honestly couldn’t care less cause all you got in return was a dirty smirk. “everything alright honey” your mom asked with a worried look on her face. “she’s been having bad cramps lately, I think I should take her home so she can get some rest” San replied squeezing your thigh.

and that’s how you ended up on your bed with your boyfriend sucking on your nipples and a hand inside your panties. “y-you really can’t restrain yourself c-can you” you moaned out trying to sound angry. San let go of your nipple and gave you a smirk sliding in two fingers inside your hole. “oh how well you know me..” he chuckled pumping his fingers faster. his actions made your back arch and eyes shut tight. this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened when you and San were out together, his sex drive was almost too much but you wouldn’t have it any other way seriously.

he pulled down your panties and rubbed your clit a few times before he dove right in. tongue gliding up and down your folds tasting your arousal. you put your hand in his hair pushing him down a bit, he groaned against your clit sending electric waves to your stomach. your moans were like angels singing in Sans ears and he could feel his cock twitch in his pants. your orgasm hit you like a train and you came all over his tongue, your body felt so heavy. San didn’t waste any time, he licked you clean and hurried to undo his pants letting his leaking aching friend out. “you don’t know how hard it is to keep my cock inside my pants when we’re out darling” his voice were deep and serious making your whole body shiver. he took his cock guiding it to your aching hole, being too excited like he used to get he didn’t give you a chance to adjust to him and you let out a whimper from the burn. he rutted into you like his life depended on it, your hands grabbing around him scratching his back. his eyes were pitch black and his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, San wasn’t that vocal instead he was growling and it always made your pussy clench around his cock sucking him all in. “fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep clenching like that” “then cu- cum mmh inside me” you moaned out. he almost came just hearing you say that. he pulled out grabbing you by the waist flipping you over on your stomach. “on all fours now” he growled. with shaky legs you obeyed him.

he hit your ass cheeks very hard a few times which would leave handprints before taking hold on your hips squeezing hard while he pushed himself inside again. you felt tears rolling down your cheeks from the mixed feeling of pleasure and pain, San always used to go very rough on you when you had sex which meant you almost never had romantic and slow sex. “my beautiful sexy girl gonna get filled up good with my cum” he groaned throwing his head back. you felt your stomach twist and your mouth fell open when he put one hand on your clit and the other squeezing your ass hard while thrusting in and out. “pls S-Saaaannn!” you screamed, your legs almost gave out under you. “cum for me baby” he spanked you one more time with force and you came while letting out a loud broken moan. San pressed his hips into you and you could feel his cock twitch inside you, a big load of cum spurting into you. San pulled out watching as the cum was dripping out from your stretched hole all over your thighs, just the sight made him hard again. before you had time to rest you felt him pushing his cock in again.

“San you’re kidding…” you threw your head back to look at him. he gave you a sly smile letting out a little laugh. “when you have an addiction it’s damn hard to stop” he said bending over kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs as he started to thrust into you again.

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), some more pining, cussing (bkg-typical), mentions of food, we're finally meeting the bakugous!, angst (if you look closely)

words. 4.8k (see why i had to split it...)

a/n. we have one more chapter to go, y'all! i'd love to hear your thoughts about the series so far, as well as how you think it's gonna end <3

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9

It doesn’t elude you that the air entering your nostrils and lungs through the shaky inhale you take is nothing short of crisp.

It’s early evening in the suburbs where Bakugou’s parents live just in the peripheries of Musutafu. The sunset that graced you through the man’s car windows on the way over was now nowhere to be seen, having been replaced by the sight of the waning gibbous with a sprinkle of stars dotting the night sky.

Something you rarely see in the city, you think to yourself.

Your head craned towards the infinite ceiling, you continue to admire the view, or at least try to do so—the act seemingly becoming more and more impossible by the second, what with your nerves shot and your stomach churning with anticipatory anxiety.

Bakugou must have noticed your wobbly breathing, because the man side-eyes you for a beat before finally speaking. “What are you, nervous?”

You turn your head to look at him, taking in the sight of your boss in a dark brown sweater with a white collar peeking out at the top in an effort to ground yourself, although you find you’re not feeling any calmer.

You hesitate for a moment, before heaving another jittery, somewhat resigned, sigh.

No point in hiding the truth now.

You shrug, “Yeah…”

“Don’t be,” he promptly replies, catching you off guard. His voice is serious and deceivingly firm when he finishes it off.

“They’re gonna like you.”

You don’t get the chance to think about how to respond, let alone react instinctively because the front door opens as if on cue, and out comes a relatively tall woman with ash blonde hair, followed by a slightly taller brown-haired man.

You’ve barely gotten a word in when you get scooped into the arms of the woman you now identify as Bakugou Mitsuki, and when she pulls away and keeps you at arm's length—beaming, no less, in what you hope is happiness—it takes everything in you not to gawk at how stunning the woman is.

“…You’re overwhelming her, honey,” you hear the man, who you assume is Bakugou Masaru, say worriedly at your right side.

“Oh, right,” Mitsuki hurriedly releases her hold of you and retracts her hands, flashing you a bright albeit apologetic smile right after. “Forgive me, it’s just that I never thought this day would come!”

At that, she shoots Bakugou, who’s standing beside your left, a pointed look before turning back to grin at you, “I can’t believe Katsuki has finally brought a girl home!”

You don’t have to look at the man beside you to know he’s sporting a scowl. “Watch it, old hag,” he growls.

“You watch it, child. Mind how you talk to your mother in front of your girl.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you as you watch the exchange, inadvertently catching the two blondes’ attention, their gazes drifting toward you at the sound. After a brief second, and to your relief, Mitsuki starts laughing along but Bakugou only looks away in what you think is irritation.

“Well, this girl is grateful for the invite, Mitsuki-san,” you start, mustering your most thankful smile. “But I hope I’m not imposing on your family…”

Mitsuki is quick to respond with a wave of a hand, “Not at all! You’re our guest of honor. Please, make yourself at home!”

Masaru nods in agreement, extending his right hand for you to shake, which you happily do. His smile is gentle—a stark contrast to Bakugou’s default expressions, you note—when he finally invites the both of you in. As you do—eager to escape the cold—you glance at Bakugou behind you, who’s apparently already been looking at you, although he averts his gaze when your eyes make contact.

Again with that solemn expression.

That unsettling expression drops down to the bottom of your list of priorities, however, when you enter the threshold of their home. You’re immediately hit with a glorious combination of fragrances emanating from what you think is the kitchen at the far side of the room.

“Everything smells great, Mitsuki-san,” you offer, hoping the sincerity can be heard from your tone.

You think it must have because the woman instantly lights up at the comment, “Why, thank you! Every day’s not Thanksgiving, after all.”

You nod, following them along into the living room, taking a seat on the corduroy couch opposite Mitsuki upon Masaru’s wordless invitation. “It’s so nice how you guys go all out to celebrate the holiday.”

You note how Bakugou, who’s planted on the armrest beside Mitsuki, frowns at the compliment.

“What?” you ask him before you can stop yourself, curious.

“They don’t really celebrate it,” he grunts, before tossing his mother a borderline disgusted look. “The old hag is just using it as an excuse to invite you over.”

That quip grants him a smack in the head from the said “hag”. Bakugou doesn’t yelp or cry in pain, although he does let out a slight hiss. You, again, can’t help the smile that creeps on your face as you watch them.

Mitsuki is facing Bakugou as she tuts in what you think is a warning, before turning to regard you again, a grin now having replaced the reprimanding expression that had just been on her face a second ago.

It grows even wider when she says: “What do you say we leave the rest of the cooking up to the boys and we go through Katsuki’s photo albums?”

“S-sure!” you quickly respond, the entirety of the suggestion not registering for a beat until it does, your head whipping to look at the man as you blurt out: “Bakugou, you can cook?”

At that, Mitsuki’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes darting between the both of you. “Wait, are you saying he’s never cooked for you before?” Mitsuki asks, incredulous.

She then turns to her son, who now has his arms crossed in front of his broad chest like a petulant child, “Young man, what have you been doing?”

“God, relax,” Bakugou groans as he stands up from where he was seated, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen. “We’ve just been busy with work. No time for that shit.”

“Busy with work, my ass,” she calls out to him, before once again turning to face you. “And honey, there’s no need to be all formal around us. Go ahead and call Katsuki by his first name—there’s really nothing to be shy about.”

Before you can think against it, your eyes widen in surprise for a fraction of a second before you school your face into what you think is an appropriate enough expression. “R-right, sorry.”

You chance a glance at the man, who’s now hacking away at the green onions like a madman albeit quite expertly, what you think is red creeping up his face in nothing else but scornful exasperation.

“So,” Mitsuki starts, and you turn back to see her wiggling her eyebrows at you, “about the photo albums?”

Just as Mitsuki suggested, you busied yourself with photo albums filled to the brim with close documentation of Bakugou growing up while the two men finished up in the kitchen. It didn’t come as a surprise that Bakugou was a cute kid, a signature boyish grin decorating his face in the few pictures where he isn’t scowling or glaring at the camera. You greedily took in the seemingly mundane details of Bakugou’s childhood as Mitsuki narrated the backstory of each photograph, smiling and even laughing along when she cracked a joke about how her son must have been born as the proverbial grump based on how early he learned how to glower.

Bakugou didn’t say anything the entire time you pore over the albums, probably used to his mom mouthing about her only child to friends and family who are willing to listen. Before you know it, dinner is eventually served, and the dishes that Bakugou and Masaru would bring from the island countertops to their hardwood dining table looked nothing short of scrumptious. It didn’t take long for you to conclude that they tasted exactly how they looked.

“Everything tastes incredible, but the miso ramen is glorious, Mitsuki-san,” you piped up in the middle of dinner.

The woman only tossed you a pleased, somewhat knowing look. “You’ve got your boyfriend to thank for that, dear.”

You must have looked like a deer in the headlights, because the man of the hour’s parents laugh at your expression. You stole a glance at Bakugou, who only slurped at his bowl in silence, face schooled into a rather neutral countenance.

A steady conversation gradually enveloped the four of you as you went ham on dinner, and you now find your shoulders relaxing, the tension from earlier leaving your body. You discuss current events, which then leads to Masaru asking Bakugou about how the agency is fairing in light of the recent spikes in crimes. The topic then drifts to you, like what’s your family like and what your parents do for a living; it shifts afterward to how work is going for them in the fashion industry, to the couple's retirement plans, with Mitsuki waxing poetic about how they really need to be there for each other when they do retire because Bakugou doesn’t visit them enough. To that, the man only scowls, mumbling something about how he does, in fact, visit them enough, and that the “old hag’s” definition of enough is stupidly skewed.

“But enough about us!” Mitsuki completely disregards Bakugou’s retort, shifting in her seat to address you, “I’ve actually been dying to ask you this question since you arrived. I know our Katsuki isn’t the easiest—”

“Hah?”

“—guy to be around, and so I’m really glad he was able to find someone as lovely as you. So,” Mitsuki tosses you a playful look, “what do you like about Katsuki?”

You barely stop yourself from choking on the maki roll lodged in your throat, quickly swallowing it rather painfully as you scramble for the proper way to react and respond. From the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou shift uncomfortably in his seat, but he doesn’t say anything to shut down his mother or even shift the topic of the conversation.

“Uh—” you start lamely, “What do I like about… him?”

At that, Mitsuki laughs good-naturedly. “Surely there has to be something, right? Please, indulge this old lady!”

You chuckle along with her, albeit rather awkwardly, before clearing your throat.

The only way to make it out of this conversation alive and relatively unscathed is by lacing your answers with the truth.

And so you do.

“Ba—” you start, catching yourself in the nick of time, “K-Katsuki—” you pause again, hating the way you uttered his name so tentatively like it’s something obviously foreign, “—is the most dedicated person I know.”

Mitsuki only nods in encouragement, as if urging you to go on.

And right now, you find that you’re nothing if not a people-pleaser.

“He’s admirable—there’s a reason why he’s risen to the top this quickly and stayed there,” you nod, pleased at what you think is certainty bleeding into your tone. “I don’t have any problems at all leading the HR department, what with him being the best example of what an outstanding work ethic looks like.”

The room falls into a lull, and as the seconds tick by with no one saying anything, you’re starting to think you said the wrong thing when Mitsuki finally speaks up.

“That—that’s great to hear, dear, really.” She seems to hesitate for a moment before holding your gaze again, and you brace yourself for what she’s about to say next.

“…But what about outside of work?”

There it is.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Uh—” you parrot again, mentally slapping yourself for stuttering when you can just keep your mouth shut while you think of an acceptable reply like a normal, sane person.

You glance at Bakugou, who’s now looking at you in what you think is anticipation.

Despite yourself, you feel yourself flush.

Yet you’re unable to break away from his gaze when the words finally come to you.

“…He cares,” you manage to miraculously get out while Bakugou’s crimson eyes bore a hole into you. “…Deeply. And, he makes sure it shows in his actions.”

You watch as Bakugou studies you for a few more seconds as if he’s searching for something—you don’t know what—hidden amidst your features, eventually averting his gaze back to his plate.

You follow suit, looking down at your half-finished ebi tempura, suddenly feeling too self-conscious and oddly vulnerable.

It’s Mitsuki’s soft voice that causes you to look up again.

“That’s… everything I wanted to hear,” Mitsuki almost whispers, and you think if you squint hard enough you can see tears pooling in her eyes.

You shoot her a tight-lipped smile, sensing an unusual sense of uneasiness blooming in your gut.

Thankfully, and to your relief, Mitsuki doesn’t ask any more equally humiliating questions after that, the conversation having been steered to more shallow and light-hearted topics, primarily by Masaru. Without you noticing, dinner time reaches its conclusion and it’s now time to clean up.

You stand up from your chair and start gathering leftovers to stack the plates right after when Mitsuki reaches across the table and pries them off your grip. You look at her in confusion, but she only shakes her head.

“We’ll handle the cleaning, dear.”

Behind her, Masaru nods in agreement, and you’re about to open your mouth to protest but Bakugou beats you to it.

“No use arguing with the old hag. Just give it up.”

At that, you sag in disappointment—you really wanted to pay them back, even if it’s just through helping out with cleaning—but obey nevertheless, putting down the cutlery you were just about to gather into a bunch.

Now with nothing to do with your hands, you stand at the edge of the table awkwardly, watching the couple swiftly clearing out the area. Masaru seems to notice your discomfort because he speaks up.

“Hey, Katsuki,” he starts, “why don’t you show her around your bedroom?”

Almost immediately, Mitsuki beams at her husband, evidently enthralled by the proposition. You fight the strong urge to furrow your eyebrows in worry. “That’s a good idea, honey. I bet she’d love to see your childhood knickknacks, Katsuki!”

You steal a glimpse of Bakugou—or his back, really—who’s now seated on the couch with a leg propped on it.

He’s not saying anything.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

You gulp despite yourself, shifting to face Mitsuki with a grimace-smile. “It’s okay, I don’t want to make him uncomfo—”

“Come on.”

You almost get whiplash from how fast you turn to look at Bakugou, who apparently isn’t giving you a chance to argue, already walking up the stairs to the second floor. You look back at his parents, who only gesture you to go on.

Well.

You guess you’re going, then.

You trail behind Bakugou in silence, your footsteps echoing through the stairway as you go up, one step at a time. Once you land on top of the staircase, you follow him as he turns to the right, down to the door at the end of the hallway, which you now identify as his bedroom.

He pauses a few feet away from the entryway, reaching forward for the knob and turning to face you right after, an indiscernible expression etched on his face.

“Don’t fuckin’—nose around,” he grumbles, voice gruff, “or some shit.” Despite his half-hearted warning, he opens the door, leaning back against it so you can squeeze in and enter.

Typical of the King of Consistency, Bakugou’s childhood bedroom is as impeccable as every other personal space of his that you’ve got the honor of visiting. The gray walls are pristine and are only disrupted by posters of pro-heroes, mostly of All Might, but also like that of Best Jeanist and Endeavor. Piles and piles of books line the shelves at the room's corners, speckled and lightly decorated with figurines and what you think are older gaming consoles. You study the rest of the arrangements, and before you can think against it, you find yourself smiling as you survey the room, feeling a paradoxical sense of comfort blanket you.

“…What’re you fucking smiling about, dumbass?”

At the call out, the expression on your face immediately falls. You glance back at the man who’s now leaning against the doorframe, arms once again crossed in front of his chest.

“N-nothing,” you immediately retort. “It’s just that your room is so clean and well-kept.” You pause, hesitating to say the next thing, but ultimately decide to go for it. “It’s very… you.”

You don’t know what you expected him to say or do in response—an eye roll, or a lazy scoff, or a challenge, daring you to expound on what the fuck you mean “it’s very him”, maybe?

But again, Bakugou doesn’t say anything; he simply grunts.

Against your will, you feel a wave of disappointment course through you.

“…Your parents seem like such great people,” you muse, finding yourself wanting to salvage the conversation as you continue to take in the endearing details of your boss’s childhood bedroom.

Bakugou grunts again, only this time you think it’s in agreement. “They’re alright,” he grinds out, “can get a bit overbearing at times, though.”

You hum in reply, sensing a seed of happiness blossoming within you at the thought of him opening up. “I get that. But I can clearly see they love you very much.”

The man hums back, sounding deep in thought.

Your fingers absentmindedly trail the backrest of his desk chair. “Your mom said you don’t really visit as much. Is that true or was she just pulling your leg?”

At that, Bakugou heaves such a heavy sigh, that it catches your full attention. “I haven’t been here since around early this year.”

You gawk, “Seriously?”

He shoots you a glare, although there’s not much bite to it. “Don’t look at me like that. You know how it is at work.”

You nod, “…You do put in an alarming number of hours.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, do I?” he immediately retorts, although the question seems more rhetorical.

Despite that, you steel yourself to answer back this time. “I think you actually do. I know of so many heroes who treat their jobs like the typical 9 to 5. Believe me, I hear things at work, too.”

“…What are you trying to say?”

His voice is so uncharacteristically small, it catches you off guard.

In return, you try to make your voice as gentle as possible. “I’m saying I meant what I said earlier during dinner. It’s admirable—the work that you do. I think that’s what really sets you apart from all the others, putting aside your flashy ass quirk.”

You take a gamble and toss a smirk Bakugou’s way.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man was at a loss for words.

Well, there is a first for everything.

Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed over the bold move you just pulled, you take advantage of the silence, walking a few steps towards the other wall. You carefully brush your hand against what looks like a vintage-looking All Might poster above the headboard of his bed.

“I didn’t know you liked All Might this much.”

His reply is almost instantaneous: “He’s only the best hero to exist ever.”

You, again, fail to restrain the smile that breaches your face. It’s adorable how defensive he’s become in a split second, having transformed into the diehard fanboy that he apparently is.

“Is he the kind of hero you aspire to eventually become?” you ask, curiosity bubbling in your head.

He shifts on his feet, taking a few steps in your direction. “Yeah,” he pauses, before continuing, “the kind that always wins.”

“Oh, now I know where that line from before came from.”

As if immediately knowing what you're talking about, Bakugou flushes in what you think is anger, but the more you stare at him, it becomes clearer that it’s more akin to embarrassment.

“Shut up.”

You snort, “So the philosophy you gleaned from All Might—that applies to all aspects of your life? Including being your underling’s fake trophy boyfriend?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from you as you watch Bakugou stew in what you think is shame, squirming from where he’s standing as if he’s itching to jump and strangle your frame. The man, once again, glares at you, but if anything, you can tell he’s more frustrated with himself than with you.

Still, you find yourself feeling bad. “Sorry,” you start, fighting the urge to chuckle, “I was just kidding.”

“You’re a fucking handful, you know that?”

At that, you pout, the words tumbling off your mouth before you can rein them in. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t—” Bakugo splutters, “fucking—stop calling me sir, dumbass. And,” he frowns, “stop calling yourself as my underling. That shit sounds fucking demeaning.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, flashing him a grateful smile. He doesn’t return it, opting to roll his eyes and look away instead, but the corners of his lips are twitching like he’s fighting them from curling upwards.

An abrupt thought crosses your mind at that very sight of him.

And before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt it out.

“I’m glad.”

Bakugou meets your gaze, an eyebrow raised in question. “You’re glad what?”

You shrug, fighting down the self-consciousness. “I’m glad to see you seem more relaxed and comfortable. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve noticed you’ve been extra scowly lately—if that is even a word.”

“I have not.”

“Yes, you have. The other workers at the agency have noticed, too.”

“Who the fu—”

“I’m not dropping any names,” you interject, “but some have approached me asking if we were, you know, okay?”

You peer at the man, who’s now refusing to look at you. You brace yourself for what you’re about to ask. “Are we? Okay?”

Bakugou, again, conveniently decides to be mute.

“Did I do something wrong to slight you, or something? Or have I crossed a line during that get-together with your friends that one time? Because if I have, I want you to know that I really didn’t mean t—”

“I thought you didn’t want to come over,” he cuts you off.

You freeze. “What?”

He finally meets your gaze, a frown now seemingly permanently etched on his face. “Here. To my parents’. And you’ve been acting all weird around me, stuttering and stuff.”

Shit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bakugou huffs, “Am I making you uncomfortable, or some shit?”

You can only gape at the man who looks so pained, as if this conversation is physically hurting him, which, it probably is, knowing him. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

He seems to notice this, because his frown grows even deeper. “What, am I?”

“No!” you exclaim, thankful to finally have your voice back. You vigorously shake your head, “No, please don’t think that. I—just—I just have a lot on my mind lately, that’s why. Explains why I’m all jumpy and stammering and all over the place.”

To your relief, Bakugou doesn’t prod any further, although you can sense a bit of suspicion emanating from the man despite your answer. He stares at you for another beat before shaking his head in resignation, opting to check his watch instead.

“It’s getting late. Let’s go downstairs and tell them we’re leaving.”

And just like that, Bakugou turns his back towards you and exits the bedroom.

Right after you followed Bakugou down to the living room where Mitsuki and Masaru were enjoying a glass of red wine, you informed the couple that you were leaving. The brunette immediately got to work, packing viands into Tupperware for you to take home despite your silent protests. Mitsuki, on the other hand, tried to convince you to stay for another hour or so, but Bakugou wasn’t hearing any of it. After finally accepting that she was getting nowhere with her case, Mitsuki called on her husband to see you out by the front porch.

With a bag of aromatic dishes in one hand, you stand in front of their doorway, not knowing what to say for the nth time in one night. You chance a glance towards Bakugou’s direction, the man having entered his car already, starting up the engine in preparation for the drive back home.

But you apparently don’t have to say anything because it’s Mitsuki who fills the air.

Her smile is so gentle and motherly that you can’t help the painful throb your heart makes at the sight. It’s quickly followed by the now-familiar feeling of uneasiness that has been revisiting you again and again since the evening started.

Still, you manage to smile back. At the sight of it, Mitsuki’s expression grows even brighter.

And her voice is low when she finally speaks.

“Don’t tell Katsuki this, but I’m glad you’re the one he’s decided to finally come meet us.” She reaches out to rub your shoulder, her smile not faltering, “I can see why.”

Thankfully, Mitsuki scoops you into another hug, sparing you the embarrassment and burden of having to react and respond with some intelligible reply to such a groundbreaking statement one can receive from any guy’s mother, no less.

At the couple’s request, you promise to visit again soon, and before you get to break character and admit to your mountain of lies in a crying heap, you beeline to the car and hop into the passenger seat.

Voice gruff, Bakugou nods at you. “Ready?”

You swallow thickly.

“Ready.”

The car ride home was silent. It felt long—longer than an hour, at least, your brain buzzing with unpleasant thoughts and stomach churning with anxious feelings the entire duration of it. You couldn’t seem to fall asleep no matter how much you tried. Eventually, you gave up trying to mid-way, opting to stew in whatever the fuck is going on with you instead.

You were so engrossed in your brooding that you didn’t notice Bakugou pulling into your apartment complex’s driveaway.

At the sound of his voice announcing your arrival, you sit up in your seat in alarm before promptly gathering your things, saying your usual quick goodbye and thank you, and stepping out of the car.

To your surprise, however, he puts the car in park and follows suit, stepping out of the vehicle himself.

You hesitate for a moment before starting the short trek toward the entrance, acutely aware of Bakugou trailing behind you.

When you get to the entryway, you finally turn to regard the man, whose eyes dart down to look directly at you, hands in his pockets.

In spite of yourself, you gulp. “Thank you… for today, Bakugou.”

He merely shakes his head, expression neutral. “I should be the one thanking you. You didn’t have to come with and suffer through all that with me, yet you did.”

“I didn’t suffer,” you’re quick to correct him because you didn’t. “I actually had a really nice time. Your parents were so kind to me, and I just—I…”

“What?”

You shake your head, unsure how to accurately phrase what you’re feeling. “I just feel bad, you know? You could be bringing home a girl that you actually like to meet your parents who they can fawn over instead of me, yet here you are presenting a decoy and fooling the people who raised you all because I—”

“Hey—”

“I roped you into pretending to be my boyfriend and now look at the mess we’ve made. And I know—”

“Stop it.”

His voice comes out so commanding that there’s nothing you can do but obey.

Bakugou frowns. “You didn’t ‘rope’ me into doing this, okay? I— We—” he hesitates, mouth opening and closing then opening and closing again before he finally just shakes his head in defeat. “I entered this arrangement willingly. You don’t have to blame yourself for anything.”

“But—”

“End of discussion.”

At that, you huff in irritation, but you know better than to argue with your notoriously stubborn boss. Nevertheless, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel the gratitude that blooms in your chest at Bakugou’s reassurance.

“Now get in there,” he gestures to the apartment, “It’s getting way too fucking cold.”

As if on cue, you involuntarily shudder, which grants you a wordless ‘See?’ from the man. With a final nod, you reluctantly follow his orders and enter through the doorway, although you don’t immediately go to the elevator hall. Instead, you stand by the windows, finding yourself wanting to make sure Bakugou doesn’t get jumped on his way back to the car.

And as you watch Bakugou’s receding backside, the guilt that you’ve been tirelessly suppressing the entire night finally breaks free, threatening to swallow you whole.

This can’t go on.

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @beab19 @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @lovra974 @chelbyisbord @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69 @lemuhr @rosemarygalaxy @iluv-ace @eyesforbkg @carpe000diem @shushbruv @matchat3a @ttalgi @bakunianadecorazon @the2ndl @keiscwsz @onlyisaa @aizawa19 @471323 @bakugosgothhoe

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 they make such a huge, huge difference! have an awesome day ( ˘ ³˘)

[cheollipop]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.7k

tags: smut, fluff, a hint of angst, established relationship

rating: mature

amidst the trends of fancy birthday dinners and extravagant celebrations, you craved simplicity — a day of nothing shared in the presence of your most beloved. and choi san knew just how to satisfy a craving.

⁂ warnings: veryyy self indulgent oopsie, soft/service dom!san, sub!reader, pussydrunk san (yessir), unprotected sex (👎), creampie, lovemaking, fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, begging, a hint of subspace (implied), mentioned morning sex, nicknames (baby, love, darling, etc.), very very sappy, lots of kisses, whiny san cause why not <3, aftercare.

⁂ A/N: real birthdays suck, so here's one that doesn't. happy (very belated) birthday user cheollipop. <3

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

You stirred, shifting onto your right shoulder and nuzzling the side of your face into the pillow beneath it. Floating within the idleness between slumber and consciousness, you embraced the warmth encapsuled underneath the duvet, most of it of oozing off the body resting beside you.

It was tranquil, quiet, your mind hopping between events as you recalled the unproductive day: Honeyed voice echoing in your ears and dimpled smile greeting your dreary eyes as soon as they’d opened to meet the new day’s sun. A new year’s sun. The catchy jingle of a birthday song had rolled off his tongue, the convenience store cupcake he balanced atop his palm holding a singular, lit candle. The flame danced as he approached your waking figure, his smile unwavering and eyes growing fonder while watching you rub the remnants of sleep off your eyes with the heel of your palm. Vanilla frosting painted your skin as soon as the soft flame blew out, a wish for happy days such as this to continue dying on your tongue, the off-white turning golden under the early morning rays peeking at your giggling figures through the open chiffon blinds. Vanilla frosting soon painted his face as well, unable to resist embracing you, his heart panging against his chest and yours, singing an encore of your birthday song.

You’d barely left your bed, walking back from the bathroom to find a tray holding a heaped plate of pancakes on your duvet — some clearly burnt and shoved under the pile in an act of concealment. He sat at the edge of the bed, sheepish smile on his face and wide, glimmering eyes begging to be praised. And what you were was a weak woman, barely giving the plate another glance before throwing yourself at the anxiously waiting man, endless kisses pressed to his dimpled cheeks and praise rolling off your tongue until hearty giggles shook his chest. You fell back onto the mattress, the sheets undone and bunched under your shared weight while you nuzzled into his neck. The laughter died down, and kisses turned into peppered pecks as you basked in each other’s warmth, your palms resting over his heart while he held you against his chest. The steam that’d been dancing above the golden pancakes had dissipated by the time you’d reached for the tray, a particularly loud growl voicing your stomach’s needs and parting you from the smiley man. He watched you eat, shaking his head when you’d angled the bite towards him, then pouting as he chewed after having it forced it into his mouth regardless. The stars in his eyes twinkled brighter the emptier the plate grew, nodding along to any and each word leaving your maple-covered lips while missing the context altogether. He continued to keep up a conversation he wasn’t following, fond eyes taking in your unmatched pyjamas and dishevelled hair, the hints of sleep hanging onto your eyelids as you took another bite of the breakfast he’d made you.

Oh, how thankful he was for your existence. For every breath you took by his side, he was thankful. And while birthday wishes are kept a secret — a whispered prayer for a long life surrounded by the comforting scent of baby powder — Choi San had vowed to celebrate you from the first moment you’d graced him with a smile.

-

The empty plates from breakfast still sat at your nightstand, the faint aroma of sweet maple syrup mingling in the air around you. Your stomach growled. The memory of a bandaged finger wrapped around his fork paused at the front of your mind, your hand absent-mindedly searching over the wrinkled sheets for his to hold. Your eyebrows furrowed when it came up empty, only for his hand to find you instead, fingers wrapping around yours and lifting them up to his lips. His mouth pressed to your knuckles, and you sensed the movement of his body as he shuffled closer, wide shoulders enveloping yours and your head cushioned against his chest, hand dropped back at your side.

“What time is it?” You mumbled against his shirt, finally blinking your eyes open to take in the faint golden hue painting the walls, the curtains open only a sliver, widening momentarily with every gentle breeze.

“A little past six,” San replied against your hair.

It hadn’t been long since you’d fallen asleep, then. Maybe an hour or two. Though uneventful, the day had passed by quickly, and while a past version of yourself would’ve preferred a luxurious outing, adorned in red lipstick and a fitted dress for San to ogle at, the simplicity in which your day had been spent — loved and cared for, celebrated in the most earnest of ways — no lavish dinner could have compared.

As the last of your forgotten dream dwindled away, you became more and more aware of the day’s laziness clinging to your body: the aftertaste of breakfast lingering in the back of your throat, the tank top underneath your hoodie beginning to cling to your skin as you overheated within San’s embrace, your face begging for a splash of cold water.

San whined when you untangled yourself from his hold, pulling at your sleeves in an attempt to keep you flush against his chest. “I need to wash up,” you giggled, leaning over his face to plant kisses over the highs of his cheeks.

“But I’ll miss you,” he pouted, lips quivering in a suppressed smile when yours reached them.

A familiar jingle sounded at the ajar door, furry footsteps making their way towards the shared bed where you continued your attempts of escaping the man’s arms. The Siamese hopped onto the mattress, bright eyes taking in the scene before approaching further.

“Byeol’s here to keep you company,” you watched as she nuzzled into San’s cheek, her chest vibrating with a content purr. The hand wrapped around your waist now moved to smooth over Byeol’s head, and you took that as a chance to hop off the bed, looking back at the betrayal glinting within his eyes. You cooed, walking to his side of the bed to plant a wet kiss onto his forehead, then onto Byeol’s, “I won’t be long.”

San watched your back disappear behind the doorframe, absentmindedly running his fingers over Byeol’s fur until she grew sick of it, walking away from him as well. Your scent clung to him, and yet he felt the need to roll over and dig his face into your still-warm pillow, inhaling the sweet aroma of your shampoo. A sense of comfort rushed through him as images of your smile, the mellow sound of your giggles, flashed into his mind. A day you’d expressed antipathy towards now filled with smiles and giggles. San felt accomplished. While he respected your feelings and the vulnerability you’d granted him while expressing them, his favourite person believing themselves unworthy of being celebrated felt wrong.  

Flowers, homemade cakes, walks under the stars, hummed melodies or belted lyrics — San had somehow made you look forward to a day you’d once dreaded. While it wasn’t much different than how he’d usually treat you, the consistency of his love had made every breath you took a blessing, every second spent apart tormenting, tension only releasing with the crush of his solacing embrace.

The warm stream ran over your scalp, your shoulder and down your sides into the drain, the floral scent of body wash mingling with the steam surrounding your figure. San’s whines echoed louder in your ears the longer you remained idle, nagging you to crawl back into his arms. You hurried through the rest of your routine, drying your hair the best you could before slipping a clean hoodie of San’s over your form.

You stared back at your reflection — fatigue leaving its mark on your undereyes, eyebrows undone and skincare routine too inconsistent to achieve the results you’d hoped it would. Every so often, you’d wonder how San perceived you. What did you look like in his eyes? Reaching for the door handle, you shook your head, dispelling those thoughts before San could sense them. You knew he’d get upset at any hint of insecurity.

San laid on his back — now on your side of the bed — duvet bunched at his waist and eyes trained onto the ceiling. The door creaked, dragging his attention to your sneaking figure, his eyes lighting up then softening as you stood there, digging your hands into the pockets of his stolen hoodie. Stolen sweatpants as well, it seemed, stifling a laugh at how they barely hung onto your hips.

Your eyes met, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. You knew exactly how you appeared in San’s eyes, it translated into everything he did, everything he said, down to the momentary looks shared and the grazing touches that lit your skin aflame. A sense of shame overcame you; how could you ever doubt him? A man who put his all into every word of adoration, each syllable dripping with the overwhelming emotion he held in his chest. His palm warm against your skin, delicate as it glided over you as though you were a fragile art piece, your worth unmeasurable and deserving of the utmost care. To Choi San, you were everything: hushed giggles and the inviting scent of roses — it was hypnotic. Over all the years you’d spent together, never could he cease to want you. Never could he control it.

He reached his arm towards you, flattening over the mattress with his palm up, beckoning you closer with a whisper and the twitch of his pointer and middle fingers, “C’mere.”

Nearly tripping over your feet, you rushed to the shared bed, crawling halfway to where he laid before he was on top of you, manhandling you onto your back as his lips found yours. Despite the million kisses you’d shared, possibly a few hundred since you’d greeted the new day, San’s kisses felt novel. A morning of rolling around in bed, lazy smiles and frosting smeared over your skin, San offered his first celebration, making love to you while your candle's wick was still steaming. Yet it all felt novel.

His lips fought a one-sided battle, perhaps a little too eager as his insides engulfed with flames of want. You, looking so pleased in his clothes. You, eyes downcast and cheeks rosy when he’d smeared the first line of frosting over your cheek. You, hurling yourself over him with praise rolling off your tongue after he’d managed a few half-burnt pancakes. You. You. You. He wanted you.

“I want you,” he whispered over your lips, cutting off any response you had and pressing his mouth back on yours.

Butterflies thrashed in your lower belly, arms wrapping around San’s shoulders before slipping down to tug at the hem of his shirt. He didn’t respond, his hands kneading at your hips as he deepened the kiss even further, nose digging into your cheek and teeth clashing, saliva coating your chin and his. His shirt now bunched at his chest, you struggled to keep up with his lips, tongue swiping over yours before dipping between them for more of your taste. You let go of the cotton, cupping his cheeks and forcing his face back a few centimetres, sucking in a deep breath once the cool air of your room hit your damp face. San’s eyes remained closed, lips pouted as he pushed against your palms — he wanted more.

“San, breathe—”

He brushed his lips against yours, pressing softly before pulling away to mumble under his breath, “gonna make you feel so good.” You felt short of breath again, watching as he straightened up to pull his shirt off before lowering his body weight back onto you, “I’ll make you feel as pretty as you are,” no hunger, no urgency, only a tender need to love and celebrate your being. “my pretty girl,” he planted a kiss to the high of your cheek, feline eyes softened the longer they stared into yours as he thumbed at the other, “mine.”

Yours, you thought, while his lips trailed lower, over the harsh bob of your throat and past the cotton bunched across your chest — your shirt pulled as high as it would go, no patience to take it off you. San’s lips brushed a straight line down your naval, his hands giving your breast the attention they didn’t, too focused on their end goal. Gentle squeezes and the delicate brush of his thumbs over perked-up nipples, your breath stuttered, abdomen rising and falling unrhythmically under San’s touch. He dug his nose into the soft skin under your bellybutton, just shy of your sweatpants’ band, and looked up at you through his eyelashes.

Your heart jumped, watching as he adjusted, dragging your bottoms and panties down with him as he laid himself flat onto his stomach between your legs. Your chest flushed as he took in your exposed core, “San, you don’t have to—"

“Fuck, angel, I want to,” he shut you down, nuzzling into the crook where your thigh and pelvis met, “I want you so bad.”

San’s hips mirrored yours, rolling upwards to meet his waiting mouth while his relentlessly humped the mattress below him. Ecstasy — your sweet taste on his tongue, dripping down and coating his chin as he hungrily charged in for more. He allowed you the freedom to take what you wanted, and though your movements only grew more desperate, it still wasn’t enough. A toned arm wrapped around your hips to still their frenzied ruts, legs thrown over his shoulders squeezing his head between them and your cunt spitting hot streams of arousal mere millimetres from his face. San could’ve come untouched.

Leaning in, he licked a stripe from your clenching hole to your clit, taking it between his lips and running his tongue over the sensitive bud while you spasmed under him, the arm around your hips keeping your lower half still. Two fingers breached your weeping rim, still pliable from when he’d had you in the morning, yet the stretch was present nonetheless, arching your back and digging your hips into the sheets to drag him deeper inside.

“So desperate f’me,” he mumbled against your clit, peeking his tongue out to place kitten licks on and around it, “so sensitive, my pretty girl.”

Feline eyes flitted upwards to peer at you, lust and want burning behind his irises, yet his gaze was soft. As though you’d painted the changing hues cast by a setting sun outside the window to your right, hand-mixing the blend of blues and magenta to brush over the starry sky. He climbed up your body, leaving a trail of wetness where kisses trailed his ascend. His lips covered your parted ones, inhaling the soft breaths of pleasure you released as his fingers continued pumping into your cunt, curled just right to render you pliable and thoughtless under him, too lost in his touch to recognise your own taste on your tongue.

“Close,” you whispered against his lips, the tremor of your thighs around him enough proof.

“Good.”

You bucked up into San’s touch, clit running against his palm with the motion and driving you straight into an orgasm — head thrown back allowing him to tuck his own into your neck, the vibration of your moans felt against his cheek. Locked in a state of bliss, eyes shut and back arched, you floated within the high San had so generously granted you. The fingers sheathed deep within you slipped out to dance over your sensitive bud, hips jerking once, twice before dropping a hand to wrap around San’s wrist, halting the movement.

He backed away, straightening up to throw your shirt off and across the room. His eyes lowered back to your form, bare chest rising and falling and knees bent inwards as you recovered, eyes dazed as you stared up at him. Digging his tongue into the corner of his mouth, he relished the remnants of your slick coating his lips and their surroundings, aching to bury himself between your shivering thighs once again. Instead, he lowered himself over your bare frame, meeting your waiting lips and inhaling sharply through his nose, groaning at the mind-numbing lines your nails drew down his spine before wrapping your arms around his narrow waist, tugging him closer until the cotton of his boxers met your core.

Palms cupping your cheeks, San pressed harsh kisses into the heated skin of your face, over your nose and eyelids before returning to your mouth, tongue running over your bottom lip as he dragged his aching, clothed cock over your mound. Back and forth, throaty moans exhaled over your face, feline eyes fluttering shut as the feeling of you finally washed over him.

He bumped your foreheads together, eyes still closed, “ready for me?”

Please say you’re ready for me, his tone pleaded.

You nodded, but San interrupted before you could voice your consent, “I’ll fuck you so good, baby. Will you let me do that?”

A lumped formed itself in your throat, arousal gushing out of you to seep into the material separating you from him. San was relentless, the heat of you overwhelming enough to keep him still, and yet his eyes refused to open. Refused to see how your features contorted to raw lust, want, need.

“Let me give you all I have, my darling. All for you—“

San’s eyes snapped open when your hand met his mouth, vision filled with you. His woman. Now rolling her hips against him, eyes glassy and wanting, swallowing heavily between airy moans, “please, please, stop talking and just fuck me. “

His boxers reached mid-thigh before his impatience took over, your legs flying to one side before he bent himself over your body with his leaking head at your entrance. The stretch of his girth was welcomed, a sigh leaving your lips when he’d breached your hole and slid himself between your clenching walls.

A chocked moan left San’s lips, “fuck, ‘m gonna come already.”

Finally sheathed within your heat, he readjusted your position, restless as he parted your thighs and threw them over his, leaning down to take you into his arms. Though you’d taken him earlier that day, San’s touch left your nerves burning, a pit of heat only growing in your stomach the more he neared you. Your eyes remained shut, muscles tense as the fullness slowly overwhelmed your senses.

“You gotta relax for me, love,” he muttered, trailing tender kisses over your temples and cheekbones, an arm wrapped around your waist while his free hand drew gentle circles over your hips with his thumb. “Good girl, there you go,” smiling as your eyes finally met his, relaxing in his hold. “It’s just me.”

It was just San.

The boiling heat within you simmered down to an encompassing warmth, soothing your nerves and leaving you wanting more once again. Your nails clawed at wide shoulders, chanting San’s name until the man’s composure cracked, the arm around your waist tightening its hold before driving his hips into yours. The drag of his cock nearly sent you into a state of madness, your hand flying to grip his forearm, only for him to slide it down to his own hand, locking fingers with you at your hip. 

“Breathe for me, my darling,” San spoke, as though he wasn’t fucking into you like he’d been starved of your touch, his own breathing erratic as he attempted to build up a rhythm amidst the pool of lust he’d found himself drowning in.

Pleasure seared through your body, vision blurring and skin scorching within the bubble of warmth San had surrounded you with. His grip on your hand grounded you, eyes scanning over his furrowed eyebrows to witness the silent battle he fought against his urges — he wanted to take, to seek pleasure within the hypnotic squeeze of your walls, to hold you against his chest and have you full of his love, until your pussy wept out what it could no longer hold.

San shivered atop of you. The roll of his name off your tongue drew him back to the present, a warm palm caressing the growing stubble near his jaw. “Where’d you go?”

The soft whisper cleared the tension wrinkling his forehead, his features relaxing under your touch and the relentless rutting dissolving into a languid grind. The storm within his head now dissipated, San looked down at the gleam coating your skin, reflecting the sun’s dying rays. He’d celebrated the start of the day with giggles and tender kisses as you rolled around in bed, and now, with the gradient of purples and pinks bidding farewell to the celebrations, San wanted nothing more but to spend the remaining hours of the day you were born revering your very being. A being who’d redefined beauty the first time his eyes had landed on her. How could he ever take from you?

He leaned down to peck the side of your mouth, “I’m right here.”

You ran a thumb over the high of San’s cheek, taking in the softening features before the head of his cock brushed over your sweet spot, inhaling a soft gasp as the shot of pleasure shocked you. San moved down to steal another kiss, grabbing the backs of your thighs to pull your pelvis closer to him, revelling in the hushed echo of your moans in the minimal space separating your faces, easing back into a steady rhythm.

“Always so good f’me,” San groaned, fucking his whole length into your clenching cunt before grinding against you, your clit trapped under the veined skin of his pelvis. He let go of one of your thighs to press the heel of his palm down on your lower belly, “taking me so well,” he planted a kiss against the ‘o’ of your lips, “my good girl.”

You were so close, and with San’s palm pressing against where his cock was buried within you, you couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut. Except now, the hand once teasing above your clit brushed its knuckles over the length of your jaw.

“Uh-uh...Don’t hide,” he tsked, caressing the area surrounding your eyes with the plush of his lips. Small pecks planted against the tensed skin until it eased, “look at me, my love, let me see you.”

The tenderness in his tone, the slight whine he’d attempted to conceal, it pried your eyelids open before you could resist the temptation. The sight of wide shoulders greeted you, a smile warmer than the dying sunset witnessing the hedonic show of love growing as San met your eyes once again.

“There you are,” you thought you’d heard relief in his voice, as though a minute separated from your gaze had torn his world apart, his hold on you growing tighter, and so had yours.

Desperate hands gripped at his shoulders and back, eyes pleading for him to give you more. Your lips formed an imperfect circle when the heavy presence filling you up retreated, pausing halfway before pushing back in to grind against your stretched hole. Though gentle, San fucked ferociously, starved and seeking more, cock dripping with your slick until a thick ring of cream formed against his base. Even as you clawed at his back and slobbered against the hand squeezing your jaw, eyes teary and thighs spasming with pleasure, San fucked into your pussy as thought he’d never have you again. The squelch of your arousal, the magnetic clench around his cock — thick and heavy, moulding your cunt to his shape — San was on the brink of hysteria.

“Need you to come,” he managed between deep ah’s, peppering wet kisses over your temples, squeezing the hand holding your jaw until your lips puckered. “Wanna give you all I have,” he inhaled a breathy moan you’d let out, harshly sealing his mouth over yours before pulling away to take in your dazed features, “wanna be good for you.”

“Want that, please—fuck,” you rolled your hips to meet his relentless thrusts, ankles locked at his lower back to guide him into your needy cunt. “Want it all.”

“You gotta come first, my love. Let me feel you,” his hand eased around your face, kisses gentle in their continued journey across your cheeks. “Come, and I’ll give it you, fuck it into you so good,” his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple in their decent, palm splaying out over your lower belly, “so deep you won’t need to worry about it spilling out.”

“Fuck, San, don’t stop—”

A shiver ran through your body, pleasure blurring your vision as it shot up your spine in scorching waves. San’s cock continued pumping into your pussy, a finger sneaking its way to your clit to tip you over the edge with unrhythmic flicks. You convulsed beneath him, back arching until your chests pressed flush, hips bucking simultaneously towards and away from his frenzied thrusts as whimpered praise rolled off his tongue, breathed out between sloppy kisses pressed to your glimmering skin. Moonlight danced off the sweat beading over his heaving chest, groans turned into desperate moans as he fucked into you, steady rhythm long gone now that his high was merely a breath away.

“San,” breathless, you reached out for him, “San,” cupping his face, moans blowing over the heated skin as you neared overstimulation. “Be good for me, San. Give it to me.”

A whole-body shudder rushed through him when the dizzying clench of your used cunt drove him over the edge. His thighs trembled against yours, pulsing cock shoved deep within you to spread a familiar warmth through your lower belly, hot cum fed into your womb as the limbs holding you against his body twitched with the force of his orgasm. San’s face in the crook of your neck, your arms wrapped around his sweat-clad back, drawing circles with your palm over the exerted muscle while he continued rutting into your wet hole, pearly beads of cum seeping out to sink into the sheets beneath you. It wasn’t until building pangs of pain blended with the pleasure that your hold on San tightened, a hand slipping down to his hip as a signal. Stilling yet remaining encased within your heat, San lifted his weight off you to find your eyes with his own — lidded, fond, enamoured.

The lips pecking at yours only graced you with their softness for a few moments, your taste lingering on his tongue, before strong arms dragged your limp form out of bed. You’d whined and held on to the warm — soiled — sheets, but the pout puckering your lips eased after your body sunk into the steaming bath he’d hurriedly prepared. The aroma of rose and lavender mingled in the vapour dancing around you, your back to San’s solid chest, those same, soft lips finding their way to your skin, tracing imaginary lines over the length of your neck and down to your shoulders.

You basked in the comfortable silence, sliding further down into the water and allowing your eyes to fall shut. You weren’t sure when you’d started disliking your birthday, when you grew to dread the one day in the year dedicated to you. You also weren’t sure when that changed, when you’d started looking forward to it again. Perhaps it was San and his insistence on bringing joy into your life. His smile, the way his gaze fell upon your form; it was enthralling. A past you would have wondered if love would ever find you, but you now knew that love came in the form of a wide-shouldered man. A hopeless romantic vowing to teach you the undefined meaning of devotion.

The tips of your fingers wrinkled from the bath, you crawled back in bed and tucked yourself into San’s chest as the remaining hours of the evening ticked by, relishing the warmth he surrounded you with and allowing the day’s fatigue to wash over you. There was no urgency, no dread, the reminiscent scent of baby powder and roses seeping into the fresh set of sheets you’d laid on. And as you conceded to slumber’s gentle tug on your eyelids, you recited your birthday wish as though it was a prayer, hoping the dimpled man accompanied you to dreamland, longing to meet his eyes again once the new day’s sun peeked its head past the horizon.

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[holybibly]

My sweet bunnies, I am here to spoil you.

Unholy thoughts of the day: A feline pride of 5 luxurious predators is moving into the house next door, and perhaps a little sugary lamb is just what they crave for dinner.

You were never afraid of feline hybrids, despite their aggressive and overbearing behaviour. Or so you thought. When a pride moved into the house next door as a good neighbour, you decided to welcome them as warmly as you can. You even baked a cherry cake for their dinner, but who knew they'd want to eat a different kind of "cherry." And that's how your innocent, sweet "welcome" turns into a predatory hunt, where you are the prey and they are the hunters. And when they catch you, you will be their dessert.

You shouldn't be afraid of them, you proud little lamb; you're not afraid of anything, but the way they circle around you, towering over you and looking at you as if they'd never seen anything more delicious, fills you with pure terror.

"I-I think I should go... I just wanted to say hello." You bleat softly as a beautiful red-haired cat leans in so close you can feel his hot, wet breath on your neck.

"You look delicious." His tongue flicks out just long enough to lick your skin, and you squeal, stepping back and bumping into another guy—way above the one who just licked you.

"But we haven't met yet, have we? It's not polite to leave so soon after we've opened our doors to you, little lamb." The tall cat purrs softly and squeezes your shoulders with his big hands. His deep, husky voice sends a noticeable chill through your skin.

"Now, now, be gentle, Mingi; the baby is obviously used to being treated like a princess, am I right? Look at that beautiful long hair; I just want to run my fingers through it and squeeze it in my fist." Another guy leaned in until his handsome face was level with yours. "You have a beautiful mouth too; has anyone told you that, Princess?" He ran his thumb over your lower lip, purring sweetly as he felt it tremble.

"I... I was never told that..." You barely whispered.

"What a shame, but we'll fix that. I'm Wooyoung, by the way." But before you can answer, two other guys push him away and appear in your field of vision.

"Don't be afraid, honey, we won't bite." The taller one, with luxurious sensual lips, whispers softly. "You'll like it with us."

"Oh, we'll take good care of you, darling. How did you know we like cherry?" The blonde says, his eyes sliding down your body.

"I didn't; it's... it's my favourite flavour." You stutter as you feel Mingi press his hips against your ass, his hands sliding down your shoulders until they find their place just below your breasts. His touch is hot and possessive, as if you already belong to him.

You gasp loudly as you feel a thick, soft tail wrap around your thigh as you look from one boy to the other. Your eyes widening in fear as you see the predatory grin on the red-haired boy's face. He silently repeats "delicious,"  lewdly running his tongue over his lips, leaving them wet and shiny.

You almost want to beg them to let you go when the blonde in front of you catches your attention.

"How fortunate that it's our favourite too. Welcome home, dear. I'm Hongjoong, and this is my pride: Mingi, San, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa, and we are so happy to meet you."